Response Centre K
by Ariadne'sThread
Summary: PPC. Taylor gets a new job. Her new partner, Dianne gets a headache. Badfic gets terminated with extreme prejudice.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: The PPC, SO, Department of Mary Sues and all other aspects of the original series belongs to Jay (who gave me permission to write this) and Acacia; the Harry Potter books to J.K. Rowling; and the fic (Deceived by the Beauty of a Rose) featured belongs to somebody called Morpheusthedreamer on Quizilla. Don't let the Sandman reference fool you: the fic is pure Quizilla. Thanks to Indemaat for beta-ing both the original and the rewrite: I couldn't have done it alone.**

**Edit: This and other missions were previously published under the username EyeslikeAbsinthe on Fanfictiondotnet. **

The Head of Personnel's office is hardly ever a pleasant place to visit in any part of the multi-verse and the one in the PPC Headquarters is no exception. It lies at the end of a labyrinth of corridors painted a shade of grey that combines the maximum sense of hopelessness with the minimum ability to see where anything is. Taylor had spent what seemed like hours wandering the corridors looking for it; although by the irritated reception she got it may well have been days.

Once inside, the office was unwelcoming: there were no chairs and the walls were painted the same eye-wateringly dull shade of grey. Had Taylor not been feeling too nervous and inadequate to pay attention, she might have noticed that, although the room had no windows or light fittings of any kind, she could see perfectly. As it was, the irregularity seeped into her subconscious like a winter mist; where it worried at her and added a vague sense of paranoia to her already troubled psyche.

And then there was the…the person in front of her. Taylor did not want to call it a thing, although in all her fifteen years no one had ever taken the trouble to teach her the right pronoun to use for a sentient plant. An oversized sentient daisy in fact. In a suit.

Part of Taylor's mind started to hum hysterically to itself; _Daisy, Daisy, give your answer do. _A more dominant part, which had already taken in the pretty green skinned secretary, the glittery body bags being ferried through the corridors and the centaur who had given her directions, focussed on the most disturbing thing about her new boss.

"But I signed up for The Department of Bad Slash," she protested, dry mouthed. Her voice sounded weak, even to her ears. "I never thought I'd have to… I can't be an assassin."

"I'm sorry," the daisy – the nameplate on his desk claimed he was the Marquis de Sod- said, not even trying to sound it. "We don't send teenagers into Bad Slash; not unless we're feeling vindictive and have staff to spare. Unfortunately, we need every pair of hands we can get, so we're placing you where you're least likely to go insane, screw up Canon or get killed. Not necessarily in that order."

"But I'd have to kill people." Despite –or perhaps because of- the Marquis' lack of eyes, Taylor felt pinned into place.

"That is the usual job requirement for assassins, yes," the Marquis replied, sounding irritated. "We've assigned you a partner to train you; she should be on her way as we speak."

Taylor gave up. Perhaps her partner could be persuaded to sort things out somehow.

At that moment there was a sharp knocking at the door. There are certain laws that govern fictional universes and Taylor had just unknowingly appealed to the most powerful of them all: irony.

The knocker turned out to be a woman. She was nowhere near middle aged but not what Taylor, at fifteen, would exactly call young either: perhaps in her mid-to-late thirties. This was where Taylor's relief ended. The woman wasn't especially tall, but seemed to tower over Taylor and the Marquis from sheer presence. There was mud on her boots and uniform and what looked horribly like dried blood on her hands. Least promisingly of all, she did not seem pleased to see Taylor there.

"I'm sorry," she said flatly. "I'll come back when my partner's here."

"Ah Dianne," the Marquis said as though she hadn't spoken. It is incredibly difficult for a daisy to look nervous, especially a giant one in a suit, but the Marquis managed it. "This is Taylor."

"Oh," the woman –Dianne- didn't seem to care that Taylor could hear her. "I thought she was maybe a new admission for the crèche."

"She'll be your partner until such a time as one or both of you are reassigned. It's your responsibility to make sure she's trained in combat and mission protocol. Naturally you'll be moved to a two person Response Centre."

"I like working alone," Dianne's voice was calm but her eyes were murderous.

"We need your Response Centre," the Marquis replied, regaining his control. "The only other one person suite available is in the Twilight division."

"She'll slow me down," Dianne didn't dignify the threat with an answer, but Taylor could tell her resolve was breaking.

"Perhaps by the time she's ready for reassignment there'll be a different one person response centre free," the Marquis said carelessly. "You may even be able to choose the continuum."

"I can kill more Sues without her."

"Call it an investment in time," the Marquis replied. "It'd be a plus if she survives training without giving up or dieing. Don't forget I have the authority to assign you leave."

"I'm going to need it," Dianne said sourly. "So which response centre are we in?"

-o0o-

Response centre K was almost as forbidding as the Marquis' office. It was the same dark eye-aching shade of grey, the bedrooms were like cells and the bathroom combined all the soullessness of minimalism with all the inconvenience of Victorian plumbing. It was, in a word, utterly depressing.

Of course, Dianne wasn't helping matters.

"This is your Character Analysis Device," she explained with bad grace, holding up a device with a small screen and intimidating amount of buttons. "This is your Canon Analysis Device, this is your portable Portal-Generator and _this_ is your portable Disguise Generator. _Try_ not to break them. You also have a standard issue gun, dagger, sword, crossbow, rope, pepper spray, pen and notepad although I strongly advise you pick up something a bit more effective: you look like you need all the help you can get. Anything belonging to the non-canons is fair game; just make sure you kill them before the 'Sue. You can only take weapons appropriate to the Continuum you're visiting: no modern guns in historical continuums, no wands in non magical ones. Any questions?"

"Are you suggesting I take stuff _off the bodies_?" Taylor asked, wide eyed.

"They tend to protest less when they're dead." Dianne rolled her eyes.

(beep)

A light was flashing on the huge console that took up an entire wall of the admittedly small main room. Battered and oddly scuffed, as though it had been attacked multiple times by the previous residents, it seemed to be a hybrid of a Sixties computer and something from the TARDIS, full of interesting buttons and colourful blinking lights. It was the one thing about the room that Taylor liked.

She would learn.

"Finally. We have a mission." Dianne, cheered by the thought of imminent bloodshed, lent over to read the console screen. "It's a Mary Sue and a Gary Stu in the Harry Potter Continuum. She's in love with him, but she's stringing along both Harry and Draco and he's the son of Voldermort! First _son_ of Voldermort I've ever come across. I only wish I could say the same for daughters." She pressed some buttons distractedly and an oblong, door-shaped portal flickered into view.

Dianne reached for her bag, remembered she was not alone and scowled.

"Just try not wander off or touch anything," she said. "We're going disguised as fifth years. I'll have to make you look a bit older, that way we can pass for fiftteen."

"I _am_ fifteen!" Taylor protested.

"Sure you are."

-o0o-

"_Stay out of sight!"_ Dianne hissed, yanking Taylor down before she slipped off the edge of the roof. _"The non-canons can see you!"_

"_Where are we?" _Taylor gasped as much from the scene around her as from the sudden pain in her head. Her first impression was that they must have come to the wrong place: J.K. Rowling had never mentioned anywhere like this.

They were stood on the roof of a beautiful mansion –Taylor assumed it was a mansion on the basis that they didn't make wedding cakes out of stone and mortar-. The house was surrounded by water: not a moat, but smooth unbroken water, stretching from horizon to horizon. Strangest of all, a localised version of the Northern lights was gliding leisurely over the still water. For some reason Taylor didn't want to think about it all seemed strangely…familiar.

"What the hell is _that_?" she asked, wide eyed.

Dianne glanced irritably down at the pinkish light. "Bad writing."

"_What?" _Taylor asked, even more confused. Her head was pounding and oddly constricted: just her luck to get a migraine on her first day.

"Don't you know anything?" Dianne demanded, then sighed. "Obviously not. This world's made of words right?" She explained, obviously exasperated. "So metaphors –even bad ones- override the laws of physics. The number of times I've seen someone's hair turn to spun gold."

"But what sort of metaphor is _that?_" Taylor pointed to the orb of light.

_There you stood upon your balcony of your beautifully designed mansion, watching the sunset glide over the waters that surrounded your home in England._

"See," Dianne clarified, after reciting the Words. "I don't like the England part: we may have a transatlantic Sue on our hands. Either that or an American who believes that their nationality is the default setting for humankind."

The two agents peered over the edge of the roof, Taylor clinging on with all her strength. Directly below them a radiant young woman was standing on the balcony. Dianne narrowed her eyes with pure hatred.

"That's the 'Sue," she hissed. Moments later the girl's mother came out onto the balcony and the two had a brief and clunky conversation. Dianne passed Taylor a small pad of paper and a pencil. "Make yourself useful and write down the charges. One, causing England to be underwater for no apparent reason; two, causing a meteorological phenomenon for no apparent reason; three, writing in second person; four, not using proper paragraphs and spacing and consequently giving me a headache."

"Is that what that is?" Taylor asked. Her head felt as though it was caught in a vice.

"Yeah. Second person screws with your head too; gives you a weird sense of involvement." Dianne's face clouded. "I once had a partner go mad; convinced himself he was a sixteen-year-old pirate called Serena Rose Hawk: he needed extensive counselling. Not as much as Jack Sparrow but still. Five, poor dialogue."

"Is that common?" Taylor gulped, hypochondria setting in.

"Hell yeah," Dianne answered distractedly. Taylor really hoped she meant the dialogue.

The girl turned and phased straight through the tall glass doors leading into her bedroom, leaving her mother to fade away as though she had never been there.

"Oh great," Dianne snarled. "Not only has she got a sickeningly self indulgent description coming up she thinks she's Shadow Cat. Six; lazy writing; seven; impersonating a member of the X-men."

"Uh, what did you say the charges were again?" Taylor asked, totally lost.

"Where are you?" Dianne sighed. Only Dianne could have made a sigh sound threatening.

"The first one."

"Give it here." Dianne snatched the pad from Taylor and started scrawling the charges down, muttering about standards and incompetent new recruits.

_You walked through your tall glass doors and into your bathroom. You had the most beautiful bedroom and bathroom in the entire mansion, even more stunning than your parents'. You were treated like a queen, you never got punished for anything and had anything anyone could ever dream of. _

"Masquerading a daydream as fiction." Dianne continued.

_You had it all, not only were you one of the most excellent witches at Hogwarts, but your beauty was indescribable._

"It always is, but does it stop them trying?" Dianne growled.

_You had soft, dark brown, curls that reached down to an inch below your shoulders. You had golden skin that was as soft as baby's skin with the most beautiful Caribbean blue eyes. You were absolutely gorgeous and had the slim, in-shape body to go with it. Beyond the dreams of any guy that you knew(so you've been told)._

"Being a Mary Sue and not even bothering to hide it." Dianne gave up counting. "Testing my already severely limited patience with repeated use of the phrase "You had". False modesty."

_He made you laugh, and gave you a feeling no one else could give you, but he was all part of a secret. A secret no one was supposed to ever know at Hogwarts or at home. It was your dark secret that must be kept for an unknown time._

"Being melodramatic. Being sappy." Dianne snarled as the 'Sue got ready for bed. "Clogging up the texts with needless descriptions of your bed-sheets, clothes and pyjamas; needlessly mentioning your favourite band in an attempt to make your character sound cool; listening to a bad that is probably still in high school in the time the story was set."

The room shook as though struck by an earthquake: outside day came in a blinding flash of light. Taylor stumbled: reeling doubly from shock and from the tremor.

"Putting a time skip in the middle of a paragraph," Dianne muttered, scribbling furiously and opening up a portal. "Right, that's everything covered up to the start of term feast. We'll portal: the sooner this is over the better."

Taylor smiled despite herself. "I always wanted to go to Hogwarts," she admitted wistfully.

"You never know," Dianne said dryly "you might get a letter when you turn eleven."

-o0o-

"Try the Canon Analysis Device on Draco. He looks the most critical," Dianne ordered, then turned as the sounds of technology in pain failed to assault her ear drums.

Taylor was standing a few metres behind her, her gaze fixed squarely on the enchanted ceiling above them. It was an impressive sight – all clear navy sky and bright stars- even with all the movie-verse candles in the way; but Dianne was in no mood to make allowances. Her already bad mood had been soured when the Sue, Lara, had appointed herself the fourth member of the Golden Trio.

"_I said, _try the CAD on Draco," she snapped in Taylor's ear, making her jump. The girl hadn't noticed her approach anymore than she had seen her leave. Not a good survival trait in an occupation that demanded stealth.

Guiltily, Taylor dug a device out of one of her unfamiliar pockets, pointed it at Draco, who was staring openly at Lara, turned it on and shook it when it failed to do anything.

"That's the _Character_ Analysis Device," Dianne said. "You need the Canon one."

"But Draco's a character," Taylor protested, confused.

"Draco's a _canon character_," Dianne snapped. "The Character Analysis Device is for original characters only. But please; if you think you know better…"

"Sorry," Taylor said meekly, swapping the CAD's around and pointing the appropriate one at Draco.

[Draco Malfoy. Student. Canon. Out of Character 43.9 percent]

It screeched with a sound like tearing metal. Taylor nearly dropped it in surprise.

"Like I said, _try_ not to break it on your first assignment." Dianne told her nastily, shutting it off. "And don't let the non-canons notice us before we have enough on the charge sheet to kill them."

After another time skip Lara left the hall, the two agents following at a safe distance, and bumped into a tall, handsome boy.

"That's the Stu," Dianne explained in an undertone. "Check out the description in the Words."

"The _what_?"

"The Words," Dianne almost snarled. "Don't you know anything? Just look up: the whole world's made of them."

Taylor looked up at the ceiling and squinted. At first she just saw stone and plaster blackened by centuries of candle smoke, but then she began to make out and underlying mass of Words.

_Damien had the nicest smile, to you at least. It was one of those charming smiles that made you want to melt into. He had one of the best bodies you had ever seen with his hard abs, and muscular figure. His skin was lighter than yours, but had a touch of gold that glowed whenever he was in the sun. He had blue eyes as well, but his were much different than any others you had seen. They were a mix between bright blue and deep water blue. The colors looked like they were swirled into one another, making a brighter blue glow from the center. They were gorgeous. He had dark brown hair that was short. He had an unending personality that could never be mastered by anyone else. He was the perfect person, except for the fact that he was born to be evil. He never wanted to be evil, and he still doesn't._

"That's…" Taylor stood, speechless, staring up at the ceiling. "This is incredible."

"Would be if the fic wasn't such complete tripe," Dianne said. "Now hurry up; we don't want to miss any charges."

The two non-canons headed to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. The agents followed.

"Won't they notice us?" Taylor asked, eyeing the door nervously.

"Doubt it." Dianne nodded to the Words:

_He responded back to you by opening his mouth and letting your tongue slide in. Your mouths worked together gracefully in motion. _

"Can mouths do that?" Taylor asked, unimpressed.

Dianne smirked. "One day you'll meet the right boy and then you'll find out."

_As you pulled away out of the kiss, you put your hand on the side of his face, and said, "I've been wanting to do that all summer. I missed you. I missed the way your soft lips felt against mine... Look, I can't...I can't keep this a secret anymore. It's killing me! I want to be with you always. I want to be able to kiss you in the hallways, and sit on your lap by the fire in the common room."_

"Where'd the other half of the conversation go?" Taylor blinked.

Dianne smirked. "I don't think she loves him for his mind."

_Tears of frustration and started to run down your cheeks. Damien walked over to you and gently wiped a tear off of your face with one hand. "Hey, look I want to be with you too, it's just for your protection, that's all. You know that" he said with compassion. You turned away from him in anger and yelled, "My protection? MY PROTECTION!I DON'T CARE IF YOUR VOLDEMORT'S SON! _

"Well that's the sort of thing I'd shout in possible earshot of Dumbledore." Dianne commented dryly. "And what does she mean "your" Voldermort's? How many Voldermorts are there?"

_I think I can have my own freedom to do whatever I please with you in public!_

"Does Damien get a say?" Taylor asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hell no." Dianne was grinning. It was not an altogether pleasant grin, but Taylor was encouraged by the fact that Dianne's aggression had found another object to vent itself upon. "Lara's gone from Sparklypoo to self imposed goddess."

"_Sparkly what?"_ Taylor asked, perplexed.

"Never mind." Dianne's mood sank like a blow from an ice pick as she remembered just who she was talking to. "Come on; we're pretty much done for the day and it's well past your bedtime."

-o0o-

Taylor did not sleep well that night. Quite apart from being nervous about letting her guard down in the presence of a trained killer with a personal grudge against her, the prospect of the actual assassination lay heavy on her mind. She could see that Lara was shallow and horribly self absorbed, but did that actually warrant killing her?

She awoke the next morning in a corner of the Great Hall, stiff from sleeping on the cold stone floor and with a horrendous headache from the prose. Sleeping under magical stars had seemed like such a nice idea last night, but in the cold light of day, Taylor suspected it was Dianne's way of disillusioning her about the enchanted ceiling.

She half heartedly rolled her shoulders as she ate one of the rolls Dianne had scavenged (Dianne had a peculiar talent for making seemingly nice gestures into an accusation of incompetence). Visions of her bed taunted her as she tried to stretch the ache from her muscles. _It would be so nice to climb in and…_

Taylor frowned. The bed in her mind's eye was not her bed at all. Her bed sheets were blue and green, whereas the ones in her mind's eye were vivid red. They seemed oddly familiar though; Taylor almost felt there was a band poster that should go with them. She shook the vision out of her head as though brushing aside an errant piece of hair. _It was strange that her muscles were so stiff; she was hurting in places she hadn't felt since her first Quidditch practice._

Taylor stood up unsteadily. She had never seen a broom, let alone flown one, in her life. Somehow someone else's thoughts were intruding into her own. Vaguely she remembered legilimency. Was this what it felt like? She should go and ask Dianne.

_Dianne?_ Taylor couldn't remember anyone of that name. It was a funny sort of name come to think of it: almost a waste when you could be called something exotic like Raven or Selena instead. She must have meant Hermione. Hermione would know what to do.

Taylor felt a wave of panic when she realised she could no longer remember her own name. She felt it should be Lara, but that name belonged to the Sue. Her thoughts were slowing down like cooling treacle, but before she could do anything about it the world turned oddly dark. Dark and glittery.

The next thing she knew she was on the floor, with her arm twisted painfully behind her back and the urge to go to the Gryffindor table slowly fading.

"What happened?" She groaned, not really wanting to know the answer.

"That Taylor speaking?" Dianne demanded from above her.

"Of course it's me." Taylor replied as irritably as she dared. A horrible thought struck her. "Who else would it be?"

"You got Sue'd," Dianne told her briskly, letting go of her arm and getting up. "If you can't hack it here portal back to base and I'll get the 'Sue.

"I'll be fine." Taylor heard herself say and realising with some surprise that she meant them. The thought of Lara somehow getting inside her head made her blood run cold and her jaw grow tight with fury. "I want to be there when she dies."

Dianne looked unimpressed. "Just try not to be a liability."

Taylor scowled. "Did you need to twist my arm quite so hard?"

"Probably not."

-o0o-

"You sure you're okay?" Dianne asked. "Only Upstairs'll dock my wages if I bring you back unfit for duty."

"I'm fine," Taylor pulled her knees tighter into her chest, the better to fit into their hiding place perched on a wide windowsill behind long velvet curtains. They were in the Gryffindor Common Room, spying on Lara and Damien. "It just feels like the inside of my head's been stuffed with cotton wool."

"And how many years have you had to get used to it? Eleven? Twelve?" Dianne snarked. Lara had used up half a page of Dianne's notebook in a single Quidditch match: both her and Damien were not only playing, but the best on their respective teams as well as being joint best academically; Draco had been forced to leer over Lara; and to add a touch of sociopathy, Damien had broken his arm with a stray bludger. Obviously there had been no consequences.

Right now Lara and Damien were making out after hours in on of the armchairs in the Gryffindor common room. The fact that Damien was a Slytherin wasn't allowed to hinder them: the author had given him an invisibility cloak for the purpose.

_You two started to make-out in passionate, lust-filled kisses. After five minutes, you both got off the chair and he sat back down. You sat on his lap, like you'd been wanting to all day, and he covered you both up with a blanket._

"You can always tell when the author's never been kissed." Dianne commented. "If they were so 'lust-filled' then why did they stop after five minutes? Let alone count them! And why would he get up?"

"Can we portal ahead?" Taylor asked. The windowsill was getting cold, and the story predictable.

"Good idea." Dianne replied then, presumably realising she had inadvertently praised Taylor, added "You're way too young to see this anyway."

-o0o-

The agents were waiting outside the castle when the young lovebirds emerged the next morning. Lara was yelling and Damien was trying unsuccessfully to placate her.

"But I thought she knew that his dad was… you know…" Taylor looked around fearfully, as though she fully expected Lord Voldermort to jump out from behind a bush. "You Know Who."

"She does," Dianne said shortly.

"So why is she surprised that she has to become a Death Eater to marry his son?"

"The real question," Dianne said, making a show of massaging her temples, "is why are _you _surprised that she's being stupid?"

Abashed, Taylor turned to the Words.

_Damien looked at you as tears welled in your eyes. He started to hold your hand, but you jerked away. You got up, and left, leaving a single tear on Damien's hand. "Become a death eater? You're kidding! God! I hate his father. He wants everyone to be just like him, and for anyone that stands in his way he kills them! Bloody dictator, that's what he is"_

Taylor opened her mouth to remark on this then realised she was too disgusted to speak.

Dianne, who had presumably seen it all, said it for her. "Well, what does she bloody expect from He Who Must Not Be Named Especially Not By Sues No Matter How Special They Think They Are?" She snarled. "Maybe she wants him to start a petting zoo for Cute Animal Friends, or… or make her Queen of the Wizarding World so she can be all big and important and wear big long dresses…"

Taylor tried desperately to focus on the rant but the story was so bad that it drew her attention like a particularly horrendous car crash. Lara was storming away, leaving Damien standing stunned and forgotten.

_As you passed the corner of the castle, Harry bumped right into you. "Oh, sorry Harry. I didn't see where I was going" you explained trying to conceal the fallen tear stains._

"How can tear stains fall?" Dianne asked venomously. "And what would she conceal them with? A paper bag over her head?"

"With any hope it'll be a plastic one." Taylor replied grimly.

"You're learning," Dianne told her. "Finally."

_"Oh, no, it's my fault. You know, it's these bloody glasses! I really need to get them fixed." "Well, I'm sure Hermione will fix them for you. She tends to have that skill to fix everything" you said with a happier expression. "Yea,_

"Yea?" Taylor asked. "Where does she think she is, the Old Testament?"

"Verily."

_she does. Are you feeling alright, Lara? I mean you seem really down lately" Harry asked in worry. You shook your head, "No! I'm fine, really! It's just that my...my cat died." "Oh...I see, well OK I'll see you later then" said Harry in disbelief. You smiled and nodded. You always had a talent for lying, which you weren't very proud of, but were always happy when it came in handy._

Dianne snorted. "Some talent. She was obviously lying and if she had a cat Harry would have seen it since they're friends and share a common room."

_As you walked away, you felt Harry's eyes glued to you. You turned to see if he was looking, and surely enough he was staring at you. "What's up with that kid lately? He's been staring at me so awkwardly, and so has Draco. Maybe they know about Damien!" you thought pondering a bit._

"Hell's Bells!" Taylor swore. "If 'Sues are so perfect then why are they so _god dam dense_!"

"Characters can't be more intelligent than their author," Dianne answered. "Sometimes I'm surprised they can think without moving their lips."

_"Where do you think you're going?" _

_You gave him a sarcastic look, and said "And why exactly do you care Malfoy?" "Well, I was just wondering when I would be seeing my little bosoms again" he said smiling at your chest. _

"Changing Malfoy's anatomy." Dianne said in a bored voice as Taylor clamped her hands over her mouth in a vain attempt to stop herself laughing. "Let's just be thankful he said 'little'."

_"Oh, God. Please, get out of my face, you low life piece of crap!" you thought to yourself._

"If I was her I'd think that to myself too." Dianne growled.

_You sighed and started to walk past Draco. He stepped to the side, blocking your way, "Ah, ah, ah" he said said in the lightest little voice. You cocked an eyebrow at him, looking him deep into his distant blue eyes._

"Causing Draco's eyes to separate from his body." Dianne continued as Taylor abruptly stopped laughing and turned the colour of traumatised porridge.

_"You have to kiss me first" he said smirking. You merely smiled at gave him a quick peck. As soon as you started to pull away from the kiss, Draco grabbed a bundle of your hair with his unbroken arm, and pulled you in for another. He responded to your first kiss roughly, slamming you up against the wall."You know, Lara, even though you're a Gryffindor, I still like you. There's something about you that makes me curious. You know, I thought you were going to be like all the other Gryffindors; brave and goody goody-like." "Well, maybe I'm really evil at heart, Draco." you said pulling away. You started walking away, and Draco called after you. "Lara!" "What?" "Nice butt!" You smirked and as soon as you turned your head away, you rolled your eyes._

"She's _English_; English people don't say 'butt'! Stupid fangirls with their stupid Americanisation!"

"I particularly liked the phrase 'goody goody-like'," Taylor said, leaning on the castle wall. The cliché, together with the block paragraph had increased her headache twofold.

Dianne took a good look at her new partner.

"You look like hell," she said bluntly. "And as much as I'd love to stick around, my wages are already so low that if Upstairs docks them then I'll be paying _them_ money. We can portal to the party: it's not far."

"Is that near the end?" Taylor asked, making an effort to stand up straight.

"The author never reached the end," Dianne said, opening a portal. "The party's where we get to kill them."

"Oh," Taylor said. "Good."

-o0o-

The portal opened outside a large mansion that the words claimed belonged to Voldermort.

"We better change." Dianne said in a low voice, pulling out the disguise generator. She pressed a few buttons and Taylor looked down, to see her school robes had been replaced by dress robes of forest green. Next to her Dianne had been replaced by a male version of herself in green so dark it was nearly black. "Can't let the 'Sue see us in school robes."

Taylor spun experimentally, her skirts flying around her. "Awesome! Hey I'm taller."

"You look about twenty-five." Dianne told her, offering an arm. "Kids aren't allowed in these things."

Inside the mansion about two hundred people were gathered around the bottom of the stairs, frozen solid as though playing musical statues.

"Damien and Lara aren't down yet." Dianne said in a low voice, as they made their way to the guests and froze on the fringes of the gathering. "Try to look like you belong here."

_About 200 or so people gathered at the foot of the stairs, and looked up at us as though we were King and Queen of this world. I linked arms with Damien, and we begun walking slowly down the stairs, smiling away our spirits._

Multiple transparent versions of Damien and Lara appeared on the staircase along side the real thing holding their arms above their heads and going 'wooooooo' rather unconvincingly. They melted from view under the real couple's radiant smiles.

Dianne snorted with laughter at this but Taylor could see a hard, set look in her eyes as the people around them gazed adoringly at Damien and Lara. This only intensified in the ten minutes it took them to reach the bottom.

"Let's mingle," she hissed, gliding off to spy on the couple. Her grip on Taylor's arm was by now so tight that if she had tried to do anything else she might well have dislocated it.

_"Ahh, my dear, Lara. Or shall I call you My Lady?" Mr. Malfoy asked. "Good evening Mr. Malfoy, Draco" I said nodding my head toward the numb Draco. "Draco! That is no way to greet your future Master's wife!" Mr. Malfoy spat. "And please, My Lady, call me Luscious"_

"Is he _coming onto_ Lara?" Taylor asked incredulously.

"Looks like a typo but I wouldn't be surprised," Dianne smirked. "Everyone else seems to be."

"He does it again." Taylor scanned the Words. "And again."

"I didn't know Draco had an uncle," Dianne commented. "That's going on the charge sheet for sure."

"When did the tense change?" Taylor asked as Draco declared his love for Lara and yelled at her a lot. "It's gone first person."

"I've been blocking it out," Dianne replied. "We portalled past some horrendous PoV changes on the way here."

_It was as if I was stuck in some alternate dimension where my whole world and all the people in it were somehow the opposite of themselves, trying purposely to make me insane._

"That's almost spooky: she's summed up exactly how the canon characters must feel." Dianne snorted. "And you'd think all the kissing would have been a clue that he liked her."

Taylor shrugged. "'Sue's are dense. Even I know that." Put downs, apparently, were catching.

"Is it just me," Dianne asked as Draco found out about Harry and called her a slut "or does he have a point?"

"He wouldn't say that if she was a man."

"Whatever. If we fast forward to after the party we can get them then."

"Okay." Taylor said nervously, twisting her skirt in her hands as they portalled to Lara and Damien's bedroom.

_We kissed our own goodnight, and his tongue became a lullaby in my mouth. "I love you so much" he whispered smiling into my lips. "I love you too" I answered back stroking his hair_.

Dianne stepped out of the shadows.

"Lara Newberry, you are charged with being a Mary Sue and not even trying to hide it; using a ridiculous title that has no connection with the story whatsoever; causing England to be underwater for no apparent reason; causing a meteorological phenomenon for no apparent reason; writing in second person; not using proper paragraphs and spacing and consequently giving me a headache; poor dialogue; lazy writing; impersonating a member of the X-men; masquerading a daydream as fiction; testing my already severely limited patience by repeatedly using the phrase "You had".

"False modesty; being melodramatic; being sappy; clogging up the texts with needless descriptions of your bed-sheets, clothes and pyjamas; needlessly mentioning your favourite band to make your character sound cool; putting a time skip in the middle of a paragraph; being too pretty to need make up; calling Voldermort by his name; bad grammar; being the best player on the Gryffindor Quiditch team, especially when Harry Potter is on it; being on the Gryfindor Quidditch team at all; causing Draco Malfoy to behave like an ass and then breaking his arm for it; being the best witch in your year, especially when you are in the same year as Hermione.

"Annoying a PPC agent; changing PoV several times in a way totally inconsistent with the previous text halfway through the story; changing from second to first person halfway through the story; messing with several canonical characters, most severely but not limited to Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter; cringe-making kissing scenes; changing Draco Malfoy's anatomy by giving him breasts and detachable eyes; making people look at you like you were a queen, even though witches and wizards don't have royalty; calling Lucius Malfoy 'Luscious' not once but several times; polluting the internet with your pitiful attempts at writing and a whole bunch of other stuff. For these crimes against fanfiction, the Harry Potter continuum and fiction in general you are sentenced to die in the most painful way I can think of," Dianne recited, without stopping for breath. Taylor was impressed.

"You can't kill me!" Lara sobbed. "I never did anything to hurt anyone."

"That," Dianne told her sending a throwing star spinning into her throat, "is the problem. You're too damn perfect."

Damien tried to protest but since his tongue had turned into a lullaby it came out as the lyrics to 'Rockabye Baby'

"Damien Riddle, you are charged with being a Marty Sam; being the relative of a canonical character; having a name that is both predictable and stupid; being the best player on the Slytherin Quidditch team; being on the Slytherin Quidditch team at all; being the best wizard in your year; participating in badly written kissing scenes; owning an invisibility cloak with no justification other than so you can make out with your girlfriend; making people look at you like a king when the magical community doesn't have them; annoying a PPC agent and some other stuff I was too busy staying sane to write down." Dianne rattled off the charges and sent another throwing star spinning into Damien's throat.

A few minutes later a witch and wizard in blood stained dress robes appeared on the moonlit Hogwarts grounds staggering slightly under the weight of the teenage corpses in their arms and tossed them in the lake. A tentacle snaked out of the water and dragged the bodies down into the depths of the lake.

"I thought the Giant Squid was friendly," the witch remarked.

"Not to original characters he isn't," the wizard replied with a nasty smile. "That and he's probably in a bad mood from the last 'Sue I left him: Adrianna Magnolia Malfetti."

"_Magnolia_?"

"The tip of the iceberg, believe me," the wizard spat. "Right. I need a shower and it's probably past your bedtime. Let's get back to Headquarters."

The witch tilted her head back, breathing in the sweet, cool air and enjoying the serenity of the moonlit grounds. They were even more wonderful than she had imagined. The stars stretched out above them like a vast map.

"The canon's healed," the wizard said, in a soft voice. "That's why it's so peaceful. Everything's right with the world."

The witch smiled. "It's beautiful."

"For now," the wizard said gruffly, seemingly embarrassed to have been caught out. "Come on, it's late and there'll be more 'Sues to kill tomorrow. Hurry up," he added when the witch didn't move. "It's not like you don't need you're beauty sleep."

The witch just smiled even wider, had one last look at the sky, and followed her companion through a portal. It closed, leaving Hogwarts still and untainted by fangirlism. At least until the next story was published.

**A.N. Well that took almost as long to write as it did to rewrite. Next up a canon crossing Marauders' Era Sue.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: The PPC, the Harry Potter series and the fic featured do not belong to me but are the intellectual property of Jay and Acacia, JK Rowling and Monkfan and are used for the purpose of parody. No profit is being made apart from the warm glowing feeling that comes from crushing fangirls' dreams. ;)**

Even before the mission started, Dianne was in a foul mood. Taylor, the new recruit she had been assigned to train, had turned out to be even worse than she expected, she had spent yesterday wading through a You!fic after Voldermort's future daughter in law and the best part of the morning carting a few necessities and a lot of weapons to her new two person response centre.

Taylor herself was shut up in the response centre's primitive bathroom and was trying to clean the blood out from under her nails with her new standard-issue dagger. Good luck to her: Dianne knew from experience that blood under the nails tended to stay there. She had briefly considered telling Taylor this before she sliced her own fingertips off but decided against it: she wasn't going to stand between the girl and a Darwin Award.

Dianne hung the last of her weapons in the cupboard and flung herself irritably down into one of the console chairs. Today had been hard and it had barely even started. She wriggled her shoulders and propped her feet up on the other chair in an effort to relax. She had trained recruits before after all and none of them had actually pushed her over the edge.

She would be fine; she'd show Taylor the ropes, she'd eventually leave and Dianne would be left on her own again. The muscles in her back started to loosen as she relaxed. Not a good idea in a place where the universal laws of narrative comedy are a workplace hazard.

[BEEEEEEP!]

Dianne swore violently, swinging round to face the console and shutting the alarm off. Taylor burst out of the bathroom, a sticking plaster taped hurriedly around her thumb.

"Is it another mission?" she asked.

"Well it isn't Upstairs calling to give us a raise."

"Not another You!fic?" Taylor paled, shuddering slightly. Being Sue'd on her first mission had left her more nervy than ever. Dianne scowled: expecting her to train a recruit while she was working was bad enough; expecting her to train Taylor was someone's idea of a joke.

"Third person," Dianne informed her. "Marauder's Era."

"Seriously?" Taylor asked.

Dianne surveyed her new recruit critically; everything about her from her pristine uniform to her constant wide-eyed expression practically screamed 'newbie'. She wished, not for the first time, that they had just sent her to one of the other Departments and let someone else deal with her. "Yes," Dianne replied irritably. "But try to keep up some semblance of professionalism. You're supposed to be an assassin not some pre-teen fangirl."

-o0o-

Taylor stumbled as she emerged from the portal, stumbling over the maltreated grass at her feet, her eyes struggling to adjust to the bright sunlight.

"What happened to the grass?" she asked, trying to assess her surroundings.

"It says in the Words that they cut it every other day. Can't be healthy." Dianne didn't elaborate on whether she meant for the lawn or the groundskeeper's apparent fixation with it.

_There in London where people went to ordinary Muggle schools. This school was called, and is still today, St. Imes High School. The grass was green and freshly cut every other day, and two small fountains in the front lawn on either side of the walkway. The people cruel and immature as all groups of mindless-beings are. People would do just about anything to be 'cool' and noticed._

Taylor flinched. "What does the opening sentence even _mean_?" She demanded. "What the _hell_ is a _high school_ doing in London? Transfer!Sues are bad enough but when they jam a whole _school_ into Canon..."

"Cue the misunderstood heroine." Dianne ignored Taylor's outburst. "Pretty, unique and perfect in every way but for some reason everyone hates her. Jeez, I wonder why?"

Sure enough the Sue, Ella C. Kender, appeared, her green eyes 'deep as any forest', red highlights shining in her 'soft brown hair' and her 'slim, nicely curved' body clad in ridiculously detailed gothic clothing.

"I'll believe that skirts and dresses were still common in 1973," Taylor frowned. "But corsets would be long out of date. Had the Goth movement even been invented back then?"

"Only in the Titus Andronicus sense," Dianne snorted. "And if you're writing the complete history of fashion you might want to add that skirts and dresses are still common in the present day."

Because she was a 'smart and enlightened girl' who could 'draw unknown places and daydream unknown spaces' Ella was surrounded by an aura of shimmering golden light and the occasional strain of what sounded like sitar music. Dianne frowned. If the Words had started misinterpreting themselves this early then the fic was guaranteed to be bad.

"She writes as well. I'm guessing she's a self-insert," Taylor commented, showing surprising perception for someone who had nearly cut off her own thumb that morning. Dianne wondered briefly whether this was due to hidden potential or the random laws of chance. Well if a monkey could theoretically reproduce the complete works of Shakespeare…

"Well there's an astounding leap of logic." Dianne rolled her eyes. "We can probably skip forwards to Diagon Alley, although it says Dumbledore wants to meet her in his office in her letter. We might have to put that on the charge sheet."

"Do you want me to start writing one?" Taylor asked, pulling a small notepad out of her pocket.

"While we're still young would be good," Dianne told her, pointedly. "Some of us more than others."

-o0o-

Five minutes after they arrived, Dianne was severely regretting coming to Diagon Alley. It might have been one of her preferred places in Canon but it was incredibly hard to appreciate this when your partner was sticking to you like a shadow and compulsively checking her reflection to assure herself that she hadn't been possessed. Between them, Taylor and the Sue were slowly draining her will to live.

She watched in disbelief as Ella tried to buy some books in Flourish and Blots without any wizard money and instead of getting thrown out for time wasting was escorted into Gringotts by a shop assistant and given free money by a random goblin.

"But..." Taylor said and then stopped. "What? That makes no sense."

"She's a Sue."

"But goblins_ hoard_ money," Taylor protested feebly. "They wouldn't give..."

"She's a Sue."

'Mandy' from Flourish and Blots then took Ella to Ollivander's and went off to do the rest of her shopping for her, something Dianne decided was taking customer care way too far. She was hardly surprised when Ella's wand turned out to be a 'wand of Fae', although she added a charge for gratuitous and deliberate misspelling.

"I thought fairies were kind of brainless in the Potter-verse," Taylor whispered, as they watched Ella swish her new wand impressively. "Surely unicorns, phoenixes and dragons are more powerful anyway?"

"Ollivander's wands choose the wizard," Dianne shrugged. "I guess they're harder to fool than people."

"Is that why so many Sues end up with wands filled with rainbows or pixie dust?" Taylor asked.

"Maybe," Dianne said. Then, unable to resist: "How do you think they get the fairies in anyway? Do they dismember them or grind them to dust or what?"

Taylor made a face, but was saved from speculating by Ollivander.

"Prophecies speak of this! Great, great powers I expect from you!"

"Should I put turning Ollivander into Yoda on the charge list?" Taylor asked. "Or is there a proper name for it?"

Dianne snorted. "They let us use 'annoying a PPC agent' as a charge and you think they care about technicalities?"

"Sorry," Taylor said, as the Sue – quite literally- ran into Lupin, knocking both of them to the ground.

There was a brief pause as Ella made conversation while oogling him and Sirius. James and Peter (being spoken for and undesirable, respectively) were nowhere to be seen. Obviously this Sue was cutting to the chase.

"Keep an eye on her while I get the bit character," Dianne told Taylor quietly. "We'll skip the Marauder's changing in front of her on the train."

"Do I want to know?"

Dianne smirked. "With your hormones? Probably."

-o0o-

"If all he wanted to say was that she was taking sixth year classes and would be tutored then why didn't he just write it in the letter?" Taylor asked as she and Dianne followed Dumbledore and Ella (whose last name had now mysteriously changed to Sidhe- probably because Kender wasn't mystical enough) down the stairs and to the feast. She had been summoned up for a private meeting and the agents had followed at a safe distance. Both had a healthy respect for Dumbledore's powers of perception, even – especially - if he couldn't strictly be counted as on their side.

"Because in these type of stories Dumbledore exists only to be a vaguely paternal figure with twinkling eyes. It's not like he has a school to organise or anything," Dianne snapped. This fic was really starting to get to her, not least because she had to explain _every single little thing_ to Taylor.

Taylor ignored her mentor's tone. "Sidhe!" She snorted. "It's a sad day when people who know about the Sidhe name their one-dimensional, too-perfect characters after them! It's almost _worse_ when they're intelligent. They should know better."

They had reached the Great Hall. Ella was sorted into Slytherin (despite being better suited to Gryffindor) for 'House Unity'. How planting a Gryffindor in the midst of the Slytherin was going to unify the Houses, Dianne didn't know, but she bet it had something to do with a young Severus Snape.

Despite having seen it the day before, Taylor craned her neck to look at the Enchanted Ceiling, and promptly bumped into a generic student. Dianne gave her a _look_, causing her to wilt almost visibly.

"Does the phrase 'Constant Vigilance' mean nothing to you?" She asked snarkily.

"But it's _different_," Taylor said in awe. "There were no clouds yester- I mean, last time we were here."

"It's called the Enchanted Ceiling for a reason. Pay attention."

As if to illustrate the point a fight broke out on the other side of the Hall. Dianne caught a glimpse of Lucius Malfoy kissing Ella, but before she could so much as pull out the charge sheet someone punched Lucius, knocking him bodily to the floor.

Immediately after there was a loud bang and a yelp close behind Dianne. She swore and dragged Taylor behind a handy suit of armour.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she hissed. "Just because she's self absorbed doesn't mean she won't notice if you scream the place down!"

Taylor ignored her, scrabbling at her pocket and throwing her CAD onto the floor. It was difficult to tell in the candlelit hall, but it seemed to be glowing molten orange.

"What did I tell you about leaving your CAD turned on!" Dianne softened, but only slightly. She wasn't sure whether she _had_ said anything, but some things were just common sense.

"I d-didn't," Taylor stammered, blowing on her singed fingers and prodding the CAD gingerly with the toe of her boot. The metal was smoking gently in the morning air. "It was turned off."

"Don't be ridiculous," Dianne whispered, consulting the Words. "If it was turned off it...oh. That might do it."

"What?" Taylor winced, gingerly inspecting her leg through the scorched material.

"We didn't miss as much as I thought. Lucius Malfoy basically just walked over and shoved his tongue down Ella's throat-"

"But she's a muggleborn," Taylor gasped. "He'd never even give her the time of day."

"It gets worse," Dianne shook her head. "Remus punched him."

"_Remus_?"

"Yeah I know. Brand new CADs can be kind of oversensitive," Dianne bent down and wrapped the wrecked device carefully in her Hogwart's cloak. "We're just lucky it didn't end up welded to the floor."

Taylor was too busy trying to inspect the burns on her leg to answer. She balanced unsteadily on her good leg, her breathing was just as erratic.

"Luckily they're in the Hospital Wing anyway; Madam Pomfrey'll have something for burns."

"Are we supposed to do that?" Taylor asked, through clenched teeth. She had turned an interesting shade of grey and seemed to be in considerable pain.

"Only if we don't get caught." Dianne raised an eyebrow. "Or would you rather carry on without it?"

Taylor winced. "Point."

-o0o-

Madame Pomfrey took one look at Taylor's leg and whisked her away to a curtained off compartment, leaving Dianne alone to watch Ella.

She seemed more concerned than all the Marauders put together about Remus's welfare. Dianne thought this was pushing it a bit; as irresponsible as the Marauders were, they at least looked after each other. Dianne expected some kind of prank on Slytherin at the very least.

Remus was allowed to leave before Taylor was, so Dianne reluctantly waited for her. She didn't trust her new recruit not to wander off sightseeing or end up breaking something. When Taylor finally emerged she was limping slightly and smelt vaguely medicinal.

"She says it shouldn't scar if I leave it alone," she said, perching on the edge of a bed and wincing a little. "She's really nice; she gave me a little pot of burn cream for it. What's Ella _Sidhe_ doing?"

"Flirting with Snape," Dianne replied flatly. "Then she's going to come down here and strings Remus along when she _should_ be meeting Dumbledo-"

There was a noise like stone screaming and a tremor serious enough to knock Taylor off her feet. Dianne absently helped her back up, swearing under her breath as she did.

"What was that?" Taylor asked in a small voice. She had fallen onto the burn and her fists were clenched in pain. "It felt like the whole castle shook."

"The whole world shook." Dianne scowled. "The Suethor published another chapter. Suddenly we're in a crossover."

"What with?"

"Can't you feel it? The magic? The music? The glitter?" Dianne saw Taylor's blank look. "We're in Labyrinth." This did not have the dramatic effect she had intended: Taylor continued to look blank. "It's an eighties fantasy film."

"Is that bad?" Taylor asked. Now Dianne mentioned it, there was something different about the comforting Hogwarts atmosphere. She was suddenly struck by the idea that the shifting staircases might lead to something very nasty indeed. Also she felt a strange compulsion to sing.

"It's a good film," Dianne said, cagily. "Thing is, I have a life time restraining order on the male lead. Who's now Ella's biological older brother. Which I suppose means she's literally a fairy princess. Well, a goblin princess really, but try telling her that."

"You have a life time restraining order on someone?" Taylor repeated the only part she had understood.

"I was six." Dianne scowled, colouring a little. "Me and my brother thought it'd be fun to wish each other away. It wasn't like I tried to set myself up as the Goblin Queen or anything."

"What happened?" Taylor asked, trying and failing to imagine Dianne as a child.

"It was kind of anti-climatic," Dianne admitted. "My dad portalled in, reminded Jareth that the PPC was the only thing standing between him and an army of ravening fangirls and Jareth decided he didn't want us anymore."

"But you can't go near him?"

"We had some gadgets from other continuums on us. Stuff Dad brought home for us. It took nearly a month to get them all back off the goblins. And don't tell anyone, but I think Hoggle still has a replica of the One Ring. It would explain why he never shows up in fanfiction"

Taylor processed this. "Can we get her before Jared arrives?"

"Jar_eth_. And we'll have to: I can't let you handle him alone." Dianne's hand went to her portal generator. "He's highly intelligent and easily bored, which is a bad combination, even without throwing magic and a personality disorder into the mix. You'd wish one of us away and end up getting pulled apart by fireys or falling in the Bog of Eternal Stench..."

"_The bog of eternal what?"_

"Stench," Dianne repeated, opening a portal. "Come on, we need to be fast."

-o0o-

Dianne and Taylor were waiting for Ella when she came pelting up the stairs to the headmaster's office. Dianne stuck a foot out and tripped her as she rounded the corner.

"I told you these steps were dangerous," one of the walls intoned gloomily.

"Dianne," Taylor squeaked. "The wall just talked."

"Don't worry, it's a False Alarm," Dianne said, not taking her eyes off Ella.

"But it _talked_!"

Dianne ignored her.

"Good to see you finally decided to turn up," she said, not sounding as if it was good at all. Ella got to her feet defiantly, pulling out her 'wand of Fae'. That had roughly the same effect as waving a red rag at a bull. Then spraying a can of mace in its face.

"I'm not scared of you!" Ella quailed. "You're just picking on me because you're cruel and small-minded!"

"No," Dianne replied, pulling out a gun and training it on her. Guns were a tricky subject at Hogwarts: sometimes they worked and sometimes they didn't. Of course, the way this Sue has warped Canon, Dianne would confidently have swung a lightsaber at her. And there was nothing like a gun for intimidating muggleborn Sues. "We're picking on you because you're annoying and you can't write to save your life, quite literally in fact. Taylor, charge her."

"Ella C. Kender, a.k.a Ella Sidhe, you are charged with being a Mary Sue;" Taylor read aloud, scanning the charge sheet. "Referring to yourself as 'smart and enlightened'; being pretentious; wearing clothes inappropriate for your time period; giving me a headache and _then _making me listen to new age music; using prose so purple it's practically ultra-violet; participating in a cliché by going to Hogwarts when you are sixteen; uh- forcing random shop assistants you just met to do your bidding; making goblins give you free money- People Do Not Steal From Gringotts And Live To Tell The Tale; making the Marauders like you; leaving Peter out; wasting Dumbledore's time, using Sidhe an alias with no explanation because you think it sounds cool..."

"It'd be akin to me calling myself Dianne Human," Dianne pointed out. "Or Dianne Centaur, since Jareth isn't a fairy. Eye-make up notwithstanding."

"That just show's you're close minded," Ella protested.

"Oh, I'll tolerate anything except stupidity," Dianne growled. "Go on Taylor."

"Um- distorting the characters of Gringotts goblins, Ollivander, Dumbledore, the Marauders, Snape and Lucius Malfoy; and causing injury to a PPC agent. Which, um, really hurt by the way. Just saying. For these crimes you are sentenced to death."

The gunshot echoed in the enclosed space, making both agents clasp their hands over their ears. Ella fell to the floor like a ragdoll and rolled over until the curve of the wall stopped her with an unpleasant crunch.

"Any ideas about what to do with this one?" Dianne asked conversationally when the ringing in her ears had faded, slinging Ella's limp body over her shoulder and pocketing her gun.

"I want her gloves."

Dianne rolled her eyes but deposited the dead Sue on the floor. Taylor pulled the fishnet gloves from her hands, and rummaged through her pockets.

"Hey, she reads Holly Black. Decades before it was published. We should have charged her for that." she said, pulling out a battered paperback and pocketing the Sue's eyeliner. "I hate it when they have taste."

"I worry about you sometimes," Dianne replied, without any real malice.

Taylor dropped the book as though she'd been burned. Again. "You don't think I'm getting Sued?" She asked eyes wide.

"She's dead." Dianne grunted, lifting the Sue again. "Chances are you're just a sap. Speaking of which; she thinks she has forest green eyes, let's show her what a _real_ forest looks like."

"Spiders might be a nice touch," Taylor suggested meekly. "Keeping with the whole gothic theme."

"Acromantula," Dianne corrected. "But not a bad idea."

[A.N. Well that chapter was fun to rewrite. The upside is that the fic it was originally based on has long since vanished into the ether. I would have deleted it, but it showed the early dynamics between the agents quite well and making the CAD explode was fun.]


End file.
